Chocolate Cake, RMV, and Bourbon
by jmkw
Summary: What if your birthday just happened to be the worst day of the year.....every year?
1. The Morning After

Disclaimer: Don't own them.....but it's way too fun to mess with 'em.....*evil cackle*  
  
Happy Birthday to .....ME!!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The morning after~  
  
Jordan woke to the buzz of a chainsaw in her head. She was dead. Opening one eye to the blinding sunlight she realized...damn, she was alive. She buried her head back into her pillow, only it wasn't a soft as she remembered. In fact it was decidedly hard and it......had a heartbeat.  
  
"Good Morning," rumbled under her ear.  
  
Jordan's eyes snapped open and her hangover was temporarily forgotten. Two distinctly male arms snaked around her body and pulled her closer. A firm thigh shifted under her own, proving to her a fact she was trying frantically to ignore. She was as naked as the day she was born....and so was.....  
  
......... Oh my God......!  
  
The memories of the previous evening came rushing back like a tidal wave dragging her down into the undertow, leaving her there to drowned in her regrets. She silently swore she'd never touch another drop of alcohol again.  
  
The light peeking under the curtains was just enough to illuminate the room in a soft glow. So, this is what Hell looked like, she thought. Jordan didn't know what she expected, but she always pictured something more along the lines of fire and brimstone. Not an efficiently stark, non-descript bedroom with.....  
  
.......Was that her bra hanging off the ceiling fan?  
  
Jordan became conscious of fingertips drawing tiny circles along her shoulder blade and was shocked to notice her own mirroring movements along the sternum near her cheek. Her hand froze when it dawned in her whisky- dulled mind, that it was all a trick to lull her into a false sense of security. The tender stoking soon left her back only to skim down the inside of her arm to the fullness of her breast. Jordan was horrified at the moan the bubbled out of her and an answering masculine chuckle that quickly followed.  
  
He's killing me, she thought.....slowly...purposefully...and apparently with great sadistic enjoyment as well.  
  
She shifted trying to connect a single of string of coherent thoughts together that would help her figure out how to turn back the hands of time. Unfortunately, she lost her place as warm lips buried themselves in the curve of her neck. Her plan to reclaim the last twenty-four hours totally crumbled at the feel of a tongue painting patterns over her skin. Jordan unconsciously tilted her head glanced over at the alarm clock on the night stand. She noticed that she had a least an hour before she had to leave for work.......  
  
"Good Morning." she murmured. It was the least she could say, under the circumstances.  
  
....to be continued... 


	2. Happy Birthday!

The day before~

Woody didn't even try to conceal his frown as Jordan strode into his office.  He couldn't believe she had the nerve to walk in his office...unarmed.

"Let's play a game Jordan......Watch! I'll put my hands over my eyes and I'll count to ten and when I take them away...you'll be gone."

"Don't tell you're still upset over last week."

Leaning back in his chair, pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and finger. His ears were still ringing from the reprimand he received covering for Jordan when she 'inadvertently' picked up evidence from a suspect's premise before a warrant could be signed.

"Upset doesn't come close."

Jordan rolled her eyes.  "Geez, you sound more and more like Garret every day."

"What do you want Jordan?"

"Do I have to want something from you to stop by?" she laughed.  When he didn't return her mirth she shifted her feet. "Okay fine....but this time I actually have something for _you."_

"If it's not a new ass to replace the one Walcott chewed off, I'm not interested."

"Renee is all bark...."

It was Woody's turn to roll his eyes.  Picking up a pen, he turned his attention back to the stack of paperwork on his desk, hoping Jordan would get the hint and get on with it. She made his nervous when she acted this way, especially when his desk calendar was blaring the date at him.  His head popped up at the sound of a match being struck and his stomach dropped as Jordan lit the candle on a chocolate cupcake she had placed on his desk. 

"Happy Birthday!" Jordan smiled at his dazed look. "You didn't think I'd let the big 3-0 slip by unnoticed did ya?" 

"How....?"

Unaffected by his internal sense of dread, Jordan nonchalantly waved her hand and pushed the cupcake closer.  "You just have to know where to look...Oh, by the way; did you know your driver's license expired today?"   

Woody's eyes widened as his jaw dropped slightly.  He fumbled in his pant for his wallet. Finding his license he groaned...so it begins,

...The Birthday Curse.

Damn, he knew what he'd be doing for his lunch hour and probably most of the afternoon.  He should have never got out of bed.

"Don't forget to make a wish," Jordan murmured with an enigmatic smile as she leaned over his desk.

Choices, choices he deliberated with hooded eyes.  He decided to wish for something simple.  He wished for midnight to arrive in the next fifteen minutes.  Regrettably, it was only nine in the morning.

After a drawn out pause, he blew out the candle.  Jordan slowly dipped her finger in the chocolate.

"What did you wish for?" She asked as she licked the frosting off her finger. Uncomfortably he shifted in his chair for a moment.  "Well...?" She asked again tilting her head to one side, her eyebrow arched with curiosity.

"I can't tell you, or it won't come true," he pointed out playing along. He pulled the candle from the cupcake and carefully split it in two.  He offered half the sweet to her.  "All I can say is just be careful walking around today...you never know when a piano will fall from the sky..."

"Ha-ha-ha...real cute...." Jordan replied sarcastically.  She looked at her watch, "Crap, I gotta go.  Meet me at Pogue tonight; we'll have a few drinks...maybe play some pool...." When Woody looked like he was going to protest she added, "...and I'm buyin'"

"Trust me.  This isn't a good idea...."

"Good, say seven?" Jordan didn't wait for an answer.  In a flash she was gone.  He could only sit there shell-shocked.  Shit. 'The Day' was out there in the open for the hands of fate to slap him around.  Taking one last look at his driver's license he tossed his wallet on the desktop. Maybe, if he was lucky, an unplanned trip to the Registry of Motor Vehicles would be the only thing the happened.  

A decidedly rude noise came out of his mouth. With a sigh he dug into his paperwork.  There was a busy morning ahead of him if he was going to spend the afternoon at RMV.......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_"Fifteen...number fifteen can come to the counter...."_ a monotonous voice yelled from the service counter at the RMV office.  

Hell...I'm in Hell...Birthday Hell, he thought.   Woody cringed in his seat as an infant shrieked from the back of the waiting room. The noise resonated through the low drone of the static coming from the television perched from the ceiling in the corner of the room.  With a pained sigh, he looked at the number on the tiny slip of paper in his hand for the hundredth time in as many minutes.

"30....how freakin' perfect," he mumbled to himself.

Shortly after he walked into the branch office and RMV employee announced that the computers were running slow.  They had turned off of the units...except one in hopes of keeping the system from crashing.  If it weren't for driving illegally he would turned around and walked out an hour earlier. 

His stomach grumbled reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything all day...except for the half a chocolate cupcake Jordan had brought by earlier. Scanning the room he spotted a vending machine just inside the door to the RMV office.  Humming a sarcastic version of 'Happy Birthday', he walked over to the machine.

Woody had tried to forget his birthday ever since it became obvious that Friday the Thirteenth couldn't hold a candle to the date, each year...every year...of his life....

At his sixth birthday party, his brother ate too much cake and ice cream and proceeded to vomit all over the presents.  At twelve a broken arm cancelled a trip to watch a Badgers game.  At seventeen he watched as his high school football team lose the regional final 63-0. Each year it was something different, finally culminating in the big disagreement he had with Annie on his twenty-seventh that triggered the beginning of the end.

When he got to Boston he tried to bury the fact that he even had a birthday. He thought he was successful until Jordan and her damned cupcake. 

Fishing around in his pocket he found enough change for a candy bar.  He popped the coins in the machine and pushed the button...nothing happened.

"Ah sir? That candy machine doesn't work...."

Woody leaned his forehead on the plexiglas fighting the urge to hit his head against it as the voice continued......

_"FIFTEEN!__ Number fifteen...it's your turn at the counter NOW please...."_

....to be continued...   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always, thank you so much for your feedback......it's my drug of choice.  And thanks for the birthday greetings I received....Jo.                  


	3. The Curse

Later that same day ~at Pogue  
  
The bell rang over the door as Woody walked into Pogue later that evening. Jordan said seven and it was closer to eight if the clock over the bar was correct. He wasn't able to leave RMV until well into the afternoon, with his wallet a hundred dollars lighter....  
  
....Who would have guessed that the fine for a lapsed license would be so high?  
  
"There you are! I was beginning to think you stood me up." Jordan called to him from behind the bar. She motioned him over with a bottle of Wild Turkey.  
  
Woody looked at his marginally clean hands and the brake dust staining the cuffs of his shirt. "Ah sorry, I had a flat tire."  
  
"Well, you're here now..." Jordan said setting a glass on the bar and pouring him a finger of bourbon. At the horse whipped look on his face she changed it to a double. She poured one for herself and lifted the glass in toast. "Happy Birthday."  
  
Woody smiled and said thanks making no move to pick up the glass.  
  
"What's up?" Jordan asked downing her drink savoring the smooth burn.  
  
"I'm afraid if I start I won't be able to stop."  
  
"It's your birthday, you're allowed to let loose a little."  
  
"No, you don't understand I have this...curse."  
  
"Woody I never realized you had a drinking problem." Jordan reached out to take the offending glass away.  
  
Woody laughed out loud "No, not that kind of curse. It's just today I'm worried I'll chip a tooth or something...."  
  
Jordan tilted her head asking him to elaborate. Woody self-consciously looked up the bar and lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "My birthday is cursed."  
  
It was Jordan's turn to laugh long and hard. Tears were rolling down her face by the time she stopped. The only reason she did stop was that Woody sat there looking like he just crossed his heart and hoped to die.  
  
"You can't be serious...."  
  
"Very..."  
  
Jordan leaned into the bar focusing her attention completely on him. "Are you saying you truly believe in curses?"  
  
"There's no other explanation. Every year, for as long as I can remember, this date has been the worst day of the year...not only for me...but everyone around me."  
  
"That is so full of bullshit...and I'll prove it." Jordan stated with conviction and lifted Woody's untouched drink to her lips. With a dramatic pause she downed it. Holding the glass back she inspected it and ran her tongue over her teeth. "See....no broken glass no chipped teeth......" She poured another round and pressed the drink over to Woody. "Let's try this again...Happy Birthday."  
  
Once again Woody pushed the drink aside. "I don't think you're taking me seriously Jordan....."  
  
"HA! What was your first clue?" She knocked back her third shot of alcohol on reflex.  
  
"The last time I planned on going out and having a drink on my birthday I ended up getting the stomach flu." When Jordan lifted her eyebrows as if to say 'and...' he continued, "I spent the day with the hang over and didn't even get a chance to get the 'drunk' part."  
  
"Then you need to make up for it." Jordan observed and pushed the glass back at him. She placed her foot on the bottom shelve on the back of the bar and rested her elbows on the surface. He could tell by her stance that she wasn't going to let him back out a third time.  
  
Woody begrudging took a sip waiting for the tell-tail signals that something dire was going to take place.  
  
"See? That wasn't so bad was it?" Jordan asked as her foot slipped from its perch under the bar.  
  
She bit back a retort at Woody's unspoken question of alarm. Wisely, she opted to find a seat around the front of the bar. She settled into the barstool next to him and poured them another round.  
  
"So, tell my Hoyt what do you think caused this curse?" She really didn't care about the answer but she reasoned it would be either listen to his improbable story or have to watch him pathetically nurse his bourbon.  
  
Jordan sipped her drink as she listened to him drone on about the year a suicidal deer hit the front of his deputy's vehicle and the year the cleaner's turned all of his white shirts a pale shade of blue due to a pen inadvertently being left in a pocket.  
  
As the time passed she felt dizzy. Giddily dizzy. Deep down she knew she'd probably pay for her rapidly apparent inebriation with a touch of a headache. She handed over her glass as Woody refilled his own. Little headache, big headache....she thought as she watched the liquor hit the bottom of her empty glass ...at this point it didn't make much of a difference.  
  
"...........last year I spent my birthday stuck in the desert with you and took a nice bug-spray nap."  
  
Jordan resurfaced at the reference to their trip to California. "Hey, wait right there! It was your idea to get in the truck alone with that guy." She interjected rolling her again emptied bar glass between her palms.  
  
Glancing down, she saw two of them......not hands, which she obviously had, but two glasses, which she knew didn't exist.  
  
"I couldn't let you go with him! It's my curse!" He replied filling his glass to the top. He turned his attention to hers filling it halfway.  
  
"Let me get this straight. You're blaming the fact that some fruitcake thought we were aliens on your silly ass 'curse'?"  
  
"Ah, yes" he answered precariously lifting the full glass to his mouth. He had to smile as Jordan's eyes followed his actions.  
  
"This is just ludicrous, next thing you're going to say is that you believe in The Tooth Fairy..."  
  
"I'm just stating the facts Jordan," he abruptly said, his voice slightly slurred.  
  
She tipped her head to one side and immediately regretted the quick motion. When the dizziness was over she forced herself to think. After a long pause she stated. "Nope, still don't believe it."  
  
"Believe what sweetheart?" The pair turned their attention to Max who had appeared behind the bar. He picked up the noticeably lighter bourbon bottle and scowled slightly at both of them.  
  
Jordan giggled and Woody looked at the sleeve of his brake-dust-ruined shirt. Neither was very willing to answer.  
  
"I think it's time to cut you both off." Max commented putting bottle back behind the bar.  
  
"Oh come on Dad, its Woody's birthday!"  
  
"Happy Birthday Woodrow," Max smiled and clapped Woody on the shoulder. "That's great...now cough 'em up."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your car keys...yours too Jordan. Being it's your birthday and everything I'll forgo the lecture." Max held out his hand until they complied.  
  
Nonchalantly Jordan reached into Woody's pant pocket and pulled out his wallet. She flipped it open and reached inside for a single and handed it to her amused father.  
  
"Geez Jordan, all you had to do was ask?" Woody grumbled.  
  
"Can I have some quarters Dad?" While she was waiting she looked at Woody's new license. "Crappy picture....hey.... did you notice your name was spelled wrong?"  
  
Woody quickly snatched the wallet out of Jordan's hand. Sure enough his name was spelled H-O-Y-T-E. "SHIT!" he exclaimed.  
  
Jordan laughed out loud as she strolled over to the jukebox. "Come on Hoyt, dance with me." Jordan dropped the coin in the slot and pressed the button........and everything when black.  
  
For a split-second Jordan wondered if she passed out...but she could still hear the murmurs of the sparse crowd and the dim cast of shadows from the meager light outside.  
  
"Everybody relax," she heard her father yell "It's probably just a thrown breaker."  
  
Jordan walked over to the window and looked outside. The whole block was dark. Holy cow, she thought, I blacked out the city. "Hoyt, I think your right...it's contagious.  
  
...to be continued... 


	4. Turning Back the Hands of Time

An hour later, Jordan was putting the last of the stools on the tables.  
  
"Dad, are you sure you don't want us to stick around and help."  
  
"No Jordan, go home. But first make sure he makes it home in one piece...." Max said grimly as he pointed over at Woody who was leaning his head against the window looking out at the dark street.  
  
"No problem. G'night, Dad."  
  
"Good night sweetheart."  
  
Jordan picked up her bag and coat and walked over quietly to Woody's side.  
  
"Do you want to share a cab?"  
  
"I don't think that would be a good idea Jordan." Woody replied with a sigh.  
  
"Oh, would you cut it out...this curse shit is getting older by the second."  
  
Jordan didn't stop for his poor-me drivel and dragged him bodily out of the pub and into a waiting cab. She told the cabbie Woody's address and settled back waiting for Woody to stop his whining. The street lights were all off and uniformed police officer were directing traffic...it looked like it was going to be a long ride.  
  
On an alcohol induced whim she took her boots off and handed them to him one at a time.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked  
  
When she noticed his babbling had stopped she looked over at him. "It looks like we're going to be here for awhile," she commented looking out the window at the traffic. "My feet are killing me" Jordan leaned back against the corner of the seat and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Wake me up when we get there."  
  
Woody shook his head and reached over to swing Jordan's legs into his lap. When she arched a perfectly shaped brow at him he said. "At least on of us can be comfortable..." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes while rubbing small circles in the arch of Jordan's foot.  
  
She felt the warmth of his hands as they worked their magic on her feet. She curled her toes around his fingers feeling the tenderness and accepting the sudden tide of arousal she was feeling as a natural circumstance of falling in love with him.  
  
"We could've walked faster." he said interrupting her thoughts..... And what thoughts they were.  
  
Love...? She cringed. Alcohol had a way of distorting reality. She couldn't possibly be in love with him......  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes, of course" she stammered sitting up pulling her feet abruptly away from his lap.  
  
Woody thought she was asleep for the amount of conversation that took place as the taxi picked its way toward his building. They were less then a block away when the taxicab sputtered and stalled in the middle of the street.  
  
"I don't believe this. I'm outta gas." the cabbie exclaimed.  
  
Jordan couldn't help herself. For the second time that evening she laughed out hard and long. The tears were rolling down her face when she handed the cabbie a wad of bills and opened the door.  
  
"We need to get you off the streets before anything else can happen." she said yanking Woody by the tie until he was forced to scrambled out of the cab instead of running the risk of strangulation.  
  
Maybe it was the sudden blast of night air or the action of standing vertical so quickly but Jordan took a step forward and tumbled into him.  
  
"Shit" he grabbed her wrapping his arms around her supporting her weight with his body. So soft and warm and she smelled good, despite the bourbon and smoke from the bar.  
  
"I think I drank to much." she giggled and leaned against him.  
  
"Really? I would have never guessed." He hauled her away from the cab. It was time to get her sobered up. "Come on sweetheart. I'll call you another cab from my place. It's time to get you home."  
  
"So you can have your wicked ways with me?" catching him off guard she sprayed her body against his her breast crushed into his chest and her lower body met his as she pulled him down for a full, but for too brief kiss on the lips.  
  
Pulling away from her was the last thing he wanted to do but he had no choice. He peeled her off him and braced his arms around her so he could lead her inside.  
  
"No Jordan, I value my life to much to take advantage of you like this."  
  
"Did you know that women are more vulnerable than men to many adverse consequences of alcohol use?"  
  
"No, I didn't." he chuckled wryly holding her arm in one hand and her boots in the other.  
  
"In general, women have less body water than men of similar body weight, so that women achieve higher concentrations of alcohol in the blood after drinking equivalent amounts of alcohol .....It's not fair, you out weigh me by at least...."  
  
She stopped walking and looked him up and down with a critical eye. 'Damn' she thought trying to remember what she was talking about and not think about the color of his eyes. She shook her head and continued on.  
  
"But there is a bright side....Women absorb and metabolize alcohol differently than men. Women eliminate alcohol from the blood faster than males. You see, women have a higher liver volume per unit lean body mass.....and alcohol is metabolized almost entirely in the liver....."  
  
"That's quite informative Doctor Cavanaugh...Now hold these while I open the door."  
  
Jordan looked around when Woody handed her her shoes. They were standing outside his apartment. Once the door was open he went inside leaving Jordan standing there trying to figure out how they got there that fast and why her shoes were in her hand and not on her feet.  
  
"Don't just stand there Jordan." Woody's disembodied voice yelled out to her. She poked her head in first and looked around before she stepped in.  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"Kitchen...shut the door."  
  
Jordan sheepishly turned around and closed the door behind her. Clutching her boots to her chest she found him at the kitchen sink making coffee with one hand holding the phone with his other. Without asking she knew he was calling her a cab. One by one she ran her fingers over personal items lying about as she meandered into the kitchen. She stopped in front of a refrigerator littered with take out menus hung with magnets on the front. She read them off in her own way.  
  
"Delivery guys have an attitude...Peking duck is lousy...Subs are okay but the pizza is to greasy...Never answers their phone..............."  
  
When she stopped talking he looked up and saw her staring at the wall.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Look, don't you see it?" she pointed with one finger.  
  
He dropped his head to her level to look. He stifled 'oomph' when Jordan all but stabbed him with the heels of her boots when she passed them to him. She reached up and grabbed the clock off the wall.  
  
"Its 12:05. It's tomorrow. Your birthday is officially over."  
  
Woody grinned enigmatically "It won't be until I have made sure you've made it home in one piece. The cab should be here in about twenty minutes."  
  
Still looking at the clock Jordan leaned against the refrigerator. She was starting to sober up. And for the life of her she didn't want to. Birthdays were suppose to be special not painful. At least that was what she's been told. With a smug smile she flipped the clock over and turned back the hands.  
  
"There...." she said looking at her handy work "It's only eleven o'clock."  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Giving you one more hour of your birthday, only this time the stars are not aligned. It'll be our secret." Tossing the clock over on the counter she tapped a bunt fingertip against his chest accentuating each word. "Nothing...else... can.... possibly... go.... wrong." She flattened her hand against his chest and asked, "....hummm, if you could have a birthday wish what would it be?"  
  
The room was closing in on him. He dropped her boots down in the most logical place he could think of at that moment.  
  
"I don't believe in birthday wishes Jordan."  
  
"You should." She whispered reaching for the nap of his neck with her palm.  
  
Hell, she'd regret her actions in the morning she knew it, but there was just so much you could blame on too much bourbon and in her heart she knew this wasn't one of them.  
  
When her lips met his he was lost. Why not take hold of an opportunity and have a little pleasure, especially since that pleasure seemed to handing itself to him on a silver platter? Why not? Given that his attraction to her was stronger that anything he'd felt in a very long time. Maybe in his whole life.  
  
She took his hand and led him to the bedroom.  
  
"Wait!....what.....Now?!" he nearly choked and put the breaks on.  
  
"Yes, now farm boy"  
  
"The cab will be waiting..."  
  
Jordon grabbed his arms and wrapped them around her waist.  
  
"If you have other plans..." she said in that matter-of-fact, dry reporter kind of way as she finished loosening his tie.  
  
"NO! I mean no...If you're sure...."  
  
She took his shocked face in her hands and brought his mouth closer. "Oh, I'm sure." she whispered on his lips just before she kissed him.  
  
He felt like he had just entered the 'Twilight Zone'. He knew that it was just the situation; a disastrous birthday celebration and too much to drink, that staged this moment. But for one night he was going to let himself dream that this wasn't just a one time...mistake.  
  
Jordan decided she was having an out of body experience. Her mind was telling her to run and her body was screaming for the release of months of tension.  
  
She purposely ignored the little voice that said "I told you so."  
  
Jordan didn't know if she was being extremely foolish or refreshingly honest. Maybe it was the bourbon talking. Maybe it was some innate reflex to try and make up for some lost innocent joy from their pasts.....perhaps it wasn't. She knew it was probably a foolish mistake, but so be it. She could pick up the pieces of her self-esteem after.  
  
"Jordan?" He whispered, pulling away long enough to murmur her name. She recaptured his mouth. She didn't want to talk, she didn't want him to analyze. He could do that later. At that moment she just wanted. Clothes melted away in string of moans and fumbling laughter.  
  
At the point of no return, she let her own mind question what it was about him...  
  
.......Why him? Why now?.....  
  
It wasn't the feel of his warm palm on her breast that caused the rapid acceleration of her heart. And it sure as hell wasn't the way he softly ran his hand up the side of her hip, or his throaty sigh when she moved beneath him.  
  
It wasn't any of those things.  
  
Maybe......maybe it was his breath on her hair, the way it warmed her scalp. Or the slow way he slid down her body, pausing to leave a moist kiss here or to brush his fingertips against her skin there.  
  
It might have been the grind of his hips, the surge that she first felt when he entered her. That union of sensations.....That they were connected, that she couldn't wait.....that he needed to move. The primal sound of longing that came from deep in her soul. Or the automatic grasp of her hands on the bed sheets as he moved within her, searching for and finding a steady anchor, when she felt herself falling head first into the deep end.   
  
Could it be the taste of his skin, the salt, the feeling of his nipple against her tongue as she drew it into her mouth? Or his slight gasp as she slowly closed her teeth?  
  
She knew it wasn't the way he whispered in her ear. She'd had other lovers. She'd heard sweet nothings before.  
  
Perhaps it was the way he took her to that wonderful place where she simply floated. She gasped, reveling in the feel of his movements, in the hardness of his body, his fingers touching her, mapping her body. After all, she could hear the small noises she knew must come from her own throat.  
  
If she didn't know better, she would have thought it was the euphoric way her body exploded in an earth-shattering sensation, rising off the mattress, slamming into his.  
  
But she knew that wasn't it that.  
  
No, when she really thought about it, she knew it was the way he held her secure while her body shook. The way he welcomed her climax much as he did his own.  
  
The way he mumbled, 'I love you' so low, she knew that he thought only he himself could hear it.  
  
It was the way he kissed her forehead and stroked her face as she settled back to earth. The feeling she had as he nuzzled her ear and took her hand in his weaving their fingers together to the point where she couldn't tell where his hand ended and hers started. The way he asked softly if she were ready before he began moving within her again, his body promising things her heart had only just sampled a taste of.  
  
Later, when sleep finally claimed her, she contemplated, with perfect clarity, about how truly simple life could be....too bad the morning light would change all that. 


	5. The Morning After part 2

The Morning After~ (part two)  
  
This is not happening! But it did and oh my God it did and did and did and...  
  
Five minutes. She had five....looking over at the clock she realized she had four...four minutes before Garret would notice she wasn't at work. Jordan knew she should leave...Get up and leave. What was keeping her there...drunk she was still drunk...she could go to work drunk...it would be a dereliction of duty.  
  
She over slept...that would explain why she was still in bed...right?  
  
Sick she was sick. Jordan tried to cough a few times to practice only they came out sounding like monosyllable words of encouraging sweet nothings.  
  
Transportation! Dad had her keys...her phone was broke and she couldn't call a cab, missed the bus and can't understand the train. But she could probably float there.  
  
Sex didn't cure Jordan's hangover but it came along way in making it tolerable.  
  
"Damn it, I'm late. Garret's going to have my ass."  
  
Jordan sat up slowly and looked around the room throwing on her clothes the second she could find them.  
  
"Jordan, just call and tell them you got stuck in traffic." he replied groggily twisting a lock of her hair around his finger as she finished dressing.  
  
"I used that excuse last week." When his eyebrows hit his hairline she added with a flip of the hand, "I over slept...alone. Where the hell are my shoes?" She said giving up her search in the bedroom and venturing out into the rest of the apartment.  
  
Woody threw some pants on and followed her. He scratched his head and pointed to the top of the refrigerator. Jordan opened her mouth to ask why but stopped. After last night she wouldn't be surprised if the commissioner of baseball said that the pennant race was a do-over and the Sox went all the way.  
  
All The Way.....oh God.  
  
"Hoyt, let's get one thing straight," she said earnestly as she hopped around pulling up her boot. "Last night never happened...or this morning for that matter. We were both drunk and not thinking clearly. I think it would be in our best interests to forget all about it...right?" she said. He smiled and nodded.  
  
"I think as adults we need to think objectively and know that certain circumstances sometimes lead us to make unwise choices....right? She stated, he just smiled and..... nodded.  
  
She opened up the door and breathed a huge sigh of relief. "I'm glad we're on the same page."  
  
"Have lunch with me today?"  
  
"I don't think that would be a very good idea.....given.... you know."  
  
"Dinner?" he persisted moving over to hold the door open for her.  
  
'"Haven't you been listening to a word I've...ah.........make it ...6:30."  
  
She was halfway down the hallway when he heard "..........My place, I can't be late two days in a row."  
  
The End 


End file.
